


A New Set of Rules

by SalishSea



Category: NCIS
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalishSea/pseuds/SalishSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I'm sorry, EJ", his voice was hoarse and shaking. And in that moment she understood what he was saying - what he was doing - and she was breathless at his courage. He was tearing down his rules - his walls. No, not just tearing them down, he was obliterating them, pulverizing them to dust. And he was doing it for her … for them.</i>
</p><p>A year after quitting NCIS due to his guilt over Jackie Vance's and Eli David's murders, Gibbs struggles to rebuild his life. Will the return of someone from his past pull him back from the brink, or push him over the edge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story takes place two years after the murder of Eli David and Jackie Vance. After burning out, Gibbs quit NCIS, trying to put his life back together. Exploring relationship between Gibbs and E.J. Barrett. Seemed as plausible (maybe even more plausible) than other Gibbs' relationship possibilities when considering cannon (although I love other 'ship stores). Also, Barrett's character is solidly established in the show but is relatively unexplored, leaving lots of creative room.
> 
> Special shout-out and a huge thanks to TheSilentPartner for helping me resolve some problems with geography, locations and timelines regarding Virginia and Washington D.C.
> 
> Spoilers: Shabbat Shalom and Shiva.
> 
> Read & Review appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, no profit or gain.

He scowled at the phone as he pulled it from his pocket. Its ring was especially annoying this morning. 0800 hours was too early to start dealing with whining clients. Gibbs glared down at it. The LCD readout indicated the caller ID was blocked. His scowl grew.

He flipped the phone open, "Gibbs."

"Is this Leroy Gibbs, the private investigator?" The woman's voice was low, muffled, in an obvious attempt to hide her identity.

Gibbs' gut went on alert. "Yeah," Gibbs said. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to hire you," she replied, her voice tense, uneasy.

"What's the job?" Gibbs asked, feigning interest. He was more interested in finding out who was behind this call.

"I want you to find someone for me."

"I don't do missing persons."

"Yes, you do," she scoffed. "You come highly recommended. You're the only one who can do this," her voice faltered, a hint of desperation slipped through her false bravado.

Gibbs' neck tensed and his eyes narrowed, but curiosity got the better of his slight flicker of apprehension. He had made many enemies during his tenure at NCIS. On more than one occasion someone with a grudge had returned to try and take him out, even after he left the agency over a year ago. This could be another low-life bent on taking her revenge. Better to get it over with now when he would not be caught by surprise, rather than blow-off the caller and have to spend more time watching his back. He decided to humor the woman, needing to find out more.

"Tell me the details. I'll see what I can do," Gibbs offered.

"I can't explain it over the phone. It's ... complicated. I need to see you in person," her voice more confident now that she had his attention.

"Alright," Gibbs replied. "I'll meet you at the coffee shop at 15th and Washington, 2pm, tomorrow."

"It can't wait until tomorrow. I need to see you today," she demanded.

Though his curiosity was in high-gear, Gibbs was perturbed at her insistence and that so far she was calling the shots in this conversation. Still, he did not want this fish to get off the hook.

"Fine. I can meet you at 2pm this afternoon at that same coffee shop."

"I can't wait until this afternoon either. I'll come to you. I'll be there in an hour."

Gibbs sighed. Guessing this was a verbal battle he would not win and wanting to meet his caller face to face to assess the threat she posed, he agreed. It wasn't as if his home address was secret or difficult to find, so he started to recite his address when the caller interrupted him.

"I know where you live. Thank you, Jethro," and she hung up.

Jethro! New clients never called him by his middle name. When a business relationship went beyond last names, clients always used his first name, Leroy. His listing in the 'private investigators' section of the phone book was 'Leroy Gibbs'. His father had always called him Leroy. It was his first name, after all. He quit using Jethro when he left NCIS.

Mulling over the conversation and the caller's use of his middle name, he concentrated on her voice. It was familiar to him, almost intimate, and it made sense that he should know it; why else would she have disguised herself. But his mind would not cooperate, refusing to match a face with the voice.

She would be here within the hour and his gut told him to take precautions. He reached for the small lockbox within a cupboard just inside the kitchen entryway, keyed in the combination and pulled out his Glock semi-automatic pistol. It felt different in his hand than the agency issued, Sig-Sauer he had surrendered when he left NCIS. The Sig was heaver, had felt more secure and familiar in his hand. He thought back to the last time he held his Sig, the day he resigned.

It had been almost a year to the day that Eli David and Jackie Vance had been murdered by Ilan Bodnar's assassin.

"Gibbs," Director Craig said, as Gibbs barged into the director's office, unannounced.

Walking over he set his gun, badge and a white envelope on the director's desk. "Director," he nodded toward Craig.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Craig said.

"I suppose not," Gibbs replied.

"What are you going to do?" Craig asked.

"Don't know."

"The team ... do they know?"

"Not yet. I guess you'll have to tell them." Gibbs stared hard at the man behind the desk. "DiNozzo's ready. Give him the team. They'll do their best for him, no one else."

Craig nodded.

Gibbs turned and walked to the door. As he stepped through he heard Craig call to him. "Gibbs."

He turned and looked back.

"Thanks for having my back."

Gibbs nodded and walked out.

He tried to deal with his guilt over Eli's and Jackie's deaths, especially Jackie's. It was his fault they were dead. After all, he was the one who, from the very beginning, could have put a stop to the whole fiasco. But after hearing the plea from the Iranian security minister he decided to bring Leon Vance to meet with the minister and Eli David. If he had done his job and declared the plan for what it was - insane - Vance would never have been involved and Jackie would still be alive. Eli David might have met his death elsewhere, but that was an occupational hazard for the Director of Mossad. Jackie Vance, however, did not deserve to die - her children did not deserve to lose their mother - due to his screw-up.

Ziva saw through his stoic facade and felt his grief, even as she struggled with her own. She reached out to him, assuring him he was not to blame for an act of terror, that this was a fate her father eventually would have earned. He thanked her for her kindness, but within the dark place growing inside him her forgiveness was something he did not deserve and could not embrace.

Vance was a different story. He was devastated by his wife's murder and he dealt with his grief through anger - anger focused at Gibbs. He blamed Gibbs for his wife's death and was relentless with his verbal onslaughts and his efforts to end Gibbs' career at NCIS. The irony was that Gibbs agreed with Leon. It was his fault. And he knew, more than anyone, the excruciating pain the man felt from losing the love of his life. His grief kept him from defending himself from Leon's anger and vengeance. He deserved no less penance than Vance was willing to extract.

But Vance's rage spiraled out of control to the point where the SecNav reassigned him to an administrative post in the Pentagon, cutting his ties to agency. In the end, Gibbs believed, not only had he caused the murder of Vance's wife, but also the end of Vance's career at NCIS.

Eventually, he lost his self-confidence, unable to effectively lead his team. He was tired; worn-out from years of death, of losing good people who did not deserve to die. His self-distraction clouded his judgment and for the sake of the team's safety, but against their protests, he finally decided to leave.

During the first six months after his resignation Gibbs retreated into a dark place. Cloistered in his basement, fortified by bourbon, he attacked one piece of wood after another. Carving, grinding, chipping and sanding each piece; forcing his will upon it, claiming power over its destiny and, with each piece, regaining some sliver of control over his life.

The team was concerned about him and for the first several months visited him often to see how he was doing and to let him know he was missed. He suspected they also feared he might do something 'rash' and they wanted to keep an eye on him. To tell the truth, the thought had crossed his mind once or twice. During their visits he was polite but insisted he was alright and made every effort to cut each visit short. Finally, checkups by the team became mercifully few and far between, which suited him just fine.

Quite unexpectedly the private investigator gig dropped into his lap about six months after his resignation. He was beginning to feel less hopeless, the grief working its way out of him, whether he wanted it to or not. He was intrigued with the call he received from an old colleague, a retired FBI agent who had built up a private investigation business. When he was offered the opportunity to buy the business and take over as sole proprietor he barely hesitated. He needed to start doing something productive again. He knew how to investigate and solve cases. It was a natural fit. And, most importantly, people usually didn't die in cases involving insurance fraud or adultery.

Gibbs jumped through the hoops of obtaining his business and investigator's licenses. He set-up an office in the living room of his house. Eventually he renewed his concealed weapons permit and purchased his new Glock.

Feeling the pistol in his hand snapped his attention back to the present. Someone was coming. Someone who didn't want him to know her identity. It was time to get focused. He placed the Glock in its concealment holster and slipped it inside his belt at the small of his back, letting his sport coat fall over it. He had a mystery to solve.


	2. Chapter 2

Exactly one hour after the call Gibbs heard the knock at his door. He walked to the entrance, his shoulders tense, his attention focused, ready to engage any threat. Opening the door he stared at the woman standing defiantly before him. The tension drained away, his shoulders dropped and his body relaxed.

Her slender, five foot, 4 inch frame sported tailored gray pants with a matching fitted jacket that accentuated her curves, but did not do justice to the finely-toned body he knew they covered. His practiced eye recognized the indiscernible rise of her jacket over her right hip, concealing her agency issued handgun. Blond hair once long was shorter now, cut just above the shoulder. Her petite lips perched above a sharp jaw she jutted out toward him now with purpose.

Although 20 years his junior her face had aged much more than the four years which had passed since he had last seen her. New and almost invisible wrinkles framed the corner of her eyes, hinting at many difficult professional battles fought. Battles were always accompanied by the hard lessons of pain and loss. Lessons always give an agent the gift of experience. And with the gift of experience comes wisdom, something she had been working on, but was far from mastering, the last time their paths crossed.

She  _felt_  different to him now - there was really no other way to describe it - as she stood there with an almost ferocious intent on her face. He clearly saw the hard-won wisdom in her eyes; pearl blue eyes that flashed as she caught his gaze.

During the few seconds they stood staring at each other Gibbs witnessed a myriad of emotions ghost across her face. He prided himself at reading others, of knowing what they were thinking by watching what their faces and bodies revealed. But the conflicted emotions on her face confounded him, making it impossible to discern why this woman had come to him. He found himself confused. Even more alarming, he felt off-balance, a feeling he was not accustomed to and definitely did not like.

"Gibbs," the cautious greeting came from her lips.

"Special Agent Barrett. To what do I owe the pleasure," a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

NCIS Special Agent Erica Jane (E.J.) Barrett said nothing, pushed past Gibbs, walked to the center of his living room office and stood waiting for him. He closed the door and stepped up to face her, intentionally invading her personal space in order to rattle her. He needed to do something immediately to throw her off-balance as well, because he didn't know the rules of this game and he needed to level the playing field.

"Long time," he said.

"Yeah," she said, not fazed by his closeness.

"Re-stationed in Rota, right?"

"Yes. Back in Rota."

"What brings you to DC?"

"Director Craig and SecNav. They want me to consider a transfer."

"Nice work, Barrett. I knew you'd do good." His compliment was sincere; recognizing a transfer request initiated by the director was considered a promotion. He caught her brief smile of appreciation, which disappeared just as quickly.

"Where to?" he asked. "Pearl Harbor? Bremerton?"

"DC. Navy Yard," she said. "Jenkins retired. Craig wants me to lead MCRT 2."

"Team 2," he said thoughtfully, "good people."

"Yeah," she echoed, "good people."

With their verbal sparring failing to give him the upper hand, Gibbs gestured for E.J. to take a seat at the kitchen table serving as his make-shift office desk in the middle of the living room. Seating himself, he continued to study the blond's face. His own expression remained inscrutable.

Finally he broke the silence. "Congratulations. What about DiNozzo?"

Immediately after Tony DiNozzo's name rolled off his tongue Gibbs felt a pang of regret. He knew it was unfair to throw the relationship she had with DiNozzo five years ago in her face. But her answer showed clearly she had been prepared for his rebuke.

"Tony and I talked. He's fine with it and so am I." Her voice turned thoughtful. "Tony still needs to pull his head out of his ass about Ziva. And Ziva needs get her head straight about Tony. They both need to figure this out … before they run out of time."

She continued, "Tony and I were a mistake. Not his fault. It was my fault." Her eyes strayed to the floor between her feet as she finished her thought, her voice quieter, "Things are different now. I'm different now."

Gibbs heard the tone of her voice change slightly as she finished. A hint of sadness, perhaps regret, tinged her words. He felt his balance shift uncomfortably again.

He wasn't sure what to make of the woman sitting before him. Her breathing had become short and shallow, fists clenched and unclenched at her sides, eyes losing their focus and intensity. She was obviously caught in a rip-tide of thought and emotion and Gibbs' gut began to suspect why she had brought her turmoil to his door.

"You gonna take the job?" he asked.

"That depends," she replied, bringing her gaze back to his.

He knew she was baiting him to continue. But he was tired of the cat-and-mouse conversation. Instead of taking the bait he decided it was time to put her on the spot, to try another tactic to throw her off-balance, if possible.

"Why are you here, E.J.?" he asked. "This isn't about hiring me."

"Actually," E.J. began, "I do have a job for you." She paused for a moment, then continued, "I need you to find someone for me."

He hesitated at the earnestness in her voice. He found himself convinced of her sincerity, although not sure of her motives. He decided to play along and see where this would go.

"Whether or not I take the job depends on if you can find this person," she said.

"Look E.J., I don't want to get involved in your personal life. There are plenty of other good PI's around. I'll give you a referral. You don't need me." He stood up, stepping behind her to retrieve the phone book sitting on the end table next to the couch.

E.J. stood as he passed. "Wait," she whispered, her hand closing around his wrist.

Gibbs looked at her in surprise. Not surprise from her grabbing his wrist; he had seen her rise, intentionally telegraphing her movement so he wasn't caught off-guard. His surprise came from the jolt her touch sent through his arm, from the clutch of emotion in his chest and from the overwhelming urge to walk away and lock himself in his basement. In that instant his body surged with confusion. Visions and emotions of a summer in Hawaii ten years earlier flooded his memory. The feeling he was losing control of the situation shook him.

He moved his gaze from her hand on his wrist to her eyes and realized E.J. must have seen the flow of emotions cross his face, because her own expression turned from earnestness to near panic. But she didn't falter. Keeping her grip on his wrist she continued, "Please, Jethro. Just hear me out. That's all I ask. If you don't want the job after that, I'll leave."

He nodded and she slowly released her grip.

They sat for a minute, uncomfortable silence filling the room. "OK, tell me about your missing person," Gibbs said, trying hard to regain control of his reeling thoughts. If he could just get down to business he could focus and keep his body and emotions under control, at least enough so they would not betray his anxiety.

"I've only spent a short time with him. But he's worth finding again."

"Alright, give me a description."

"Well," she looked thoughtful, "he's complicated … but at the same time, he's not."

"No, E.J., I mean  _describe_  him," Gibbs commanded, cutting her off. "What does he look like? Height. Weight. Age. You know the drill," he said impatiently.

"Jethro, you said you'd listen and then decide whether or not to take the job," she shot him a glare.

"Uh-ha," Gibbs acknowledged.

"Then listen until I'm finished. After that you can ask your questions." she demanded.

He sighed. "Sure. Go ahead." He looked away, not meeting her eyes, not wanting her to see the confusion boiling behind his own.

She paused for a few moments. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her trying to compose herself. Her breath came in shallow bursts again, but this time, more labored. Her shoulders were hunched, her eyebrows scrunched together. She took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled slowly. Her eyes moved away from him to the table in front of her. She set her shoulders, took another deep breath and continued.

"His integrity is something others aspire to. He's compassionate and caring. Smart and funny. He makes a difference. He's important . . . to a lot of people. He's important to me," she paused to take a breath.

Gibbs wasn't sure exactly where this was going, but it rang familiar. In one way or another over the past year he had heard the same speech from Ziva and Tony, Abby and McGee, Ducky and even Palmer. It was their stock speech about how he was such a wonderful guy and would he please come back to NCIS. He had thanked them politely and then disappointed them, each one - each time. It was one of the hardest things he had to endure after leaving the agency. And the fact that he heard it over and over again had done nothing to ease his guilt or rest his mind. He was not looking forward to another  _thanks-but-no-thanks_  therapy session with E.J..

But so far she had made no impassioned plea for him to reconsider his resignation and return to NCIS and that was different from his polite confrontations with the team. As she continued he realized she was shifting her focus and entering territory none of the team had ventured into before.

"But that's not the part of this man I need you to find. I need you to find the other part of him," she said, her eyes rising to meet his.

He could hear the slight tremble in her voice. In her face he could see fear. He felt her struggling to drop the walls protecting her emotions and he wasn't sure he was ready to hear what she had to say. But he was paralyzed, strangely powerless to do anything now but sit and listen.

"I need you to find the man that loves," she continued, her body tense, her gaze un-wavering. "I need you to find the man who can let someone inside. I need you to find the man who remembers how much he has to give." She was almost pleading now; so unlike the E.J. he knew – strong, sometimes arrogant, but always in control.

"I know he's out there somewhere. I know he's capable of love; he loved once before. I know he's strong enough to let someone care about him. I know he doesn't want to be alone."

As she finished Gibbs realized the 'other man' E.J. described was another version of him. He sat, speechless, disoriented, trying to put all the pieces together. His mind raced as the puzzle formed and he didn't believe the picture emerging. E.J. was speaking like a woman in love. There was no doubt in his mind. Gibbs knew about love and what it looked like, and E.J. looked and talked like a woman seriously in love. But that would mean she was in love with him. And after that summer in Hawaii he thought this was something he would never see.

The shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes caught his attention. She clutched her hands together to control the trembling that had finally hijacked her arms. Her voice was choked and hoarse. But she didn't stop, didn't flinch. He could see she had crossed her invisible  _point of no return_. There was no turning back for her now. He realized the risk she was taking and committed himself to let her finish, if not out of respect for her courage, then for his own selfish need to know where this was going. He felt his expression soften as he began to understand how difficult this was for her. She must have noticed the change on his face because her voice claimed more confidence.

"Jethro, I need you to find this man for me. I've shared joy and pain with him. I trust him. I believe in him," her voice cracked. "I think you know him … and I think he trusts you."

Gibbs' felt the knot in his throat tighten. The pinch in the pit of his stomach continued to expand, threatening to engulf him in panic. But he held her eyes and they compelled him to do what had always been most difficult for him - to sit still and feel.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes now, down her cheeks, dripping onto the table, forming tiny pools by her hands. Her voice was raw and strained, her breath ragged.

"I'm different now," she said. "I loved this man a long time ago. But I was young and didn't know enough about myself to fight for him then. Six years later I had another chance. But I was angry and afraid. Angry at his rejection and afraid of not being enough for him."

E.J. rubbed the heels of her hands roughly into her eyes as if she could push the tears back inside, not concerned with the tracks of smeared makeup wandering down her cheeks. She set her jaw and continued with a new-found focus.

"I'm tired of being afraid. Too many people have left. Too many people have died. There've been too many empty days - and nights. If I'm going to come back here I need a chance - just a chance - to have him in my life. And I know I'll be enough for him. If that isn't possible, I'll stay in Rota."

"Jethro, please find this man and deliver my message? You're the only one who can!"

He sat silently, his eyes on hers, unable to look away. His breath was shallow and harsh while hers was starting to relax and deepen. Emotion surged over him washing away any stable thought or feeling. His mind raced to find solid ground, some idea to grab onto, something to make sense in a world where everything important had just changed. He knew he had to say something, do something. The woman in front of him had just turned his world upside down. But his mind still whirled and speech failed him.

E.J. sat quietly, regaining her composure, never taking her eyes off his. She reached across the table and gently placed her right hand on his left. Her touch seared his skin and he involuntarily jerked his hand away. Startled by his own reaction he sat for a moment, looking at her hand on the table. Then he looked up at her. She didn't advance again, but neither did she retreat. Her face was determined and her resolve had steeled. He stood up, turned and walked into the kitchen trying to calm himself and get a grip on his emotions.

He stepped over to the sink, placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward, his head down. His reaction just now surprised him, caught him off-guard. He was not one to get so rattled as to lose all composure. Yet, he had literally walked away from the situation because he didn't know how to handle it. He was truly light-years away from his comfort zone.

The minutes that passed seemed like hours as he stood hovering over the sink struggling with the whirl-wind of thought and emotion that would not calm. He heard her steps, stopping a few paces behind him. He didn't turn.

"Jethro, I know that me being here is, well… ," she paused, trying to find the right words, "… difficult. But I also know my feelings are not a surprise."

She stepped up behind Gibbs gently placing her hand on his shoulder. This time he didn't pull away. "All I'm asking for is an opportunity to talk to this man - nothing more. I don't expect you to tell me now whether or not you'll take the job. I know you need to think about it."

He continued to look down at the sink, shrugging his shoulders under her hand.

"The problem is," she continued, "Director Craig wants my answer by 1400 hours today and I'm scheduled on a transport out of Andrews to Rota at 1500 hours. That's why I couldn't see you tomorrow, or even this afternoon. I am so sorry my fear kept me away until the last minute. I know this isn't fair to you. It's not easy for me either. I almost didn't come after I called you this morning."

Gibbs felt the familiar and stable ground of anger welling up inside him. As it grew he became focused, alert, back in control. When he turned to face her, her hand dropped from his shoulder.

"God damnit, E.J.," he said, his voice tense and controlled, but his anger boiling just under the surface, "What the hell do you want from me?"

She didn't cower, didn't hesitate. Her answer was immediate and clear, "nothing … ," she said, "… and everything."

Her voice hardened as she continued. "Jethro, I know this isn't easy for you. If you talk to this man, and if he's afraid, tell him I'm all-in on this deal; I'm holding nothing back. Then ask him if that's enough. Tell him that whatever decision he makes, I have no regrets."

"I left my card with my phone number on the table. If I don't hear from you by 1400, I'll know you've decided not to take the job."

E.J. sighed and her face softened as she looked up at him. Her hand reached out and gently brushed the fabric of his jacket lapel, lingering there for an instant. Then she turned and walked out of the kitchen. A few moments later he heard the front door close softly, the sound crashing against him.


	3. Chapter 3

E.J. drove aimlessly for an hour after leaving Gibbs. She had checked out of her hotel prior to calling him and had nowhere to go before her meeting with Director Craig. As her agitation grew her attention strayed from the road. After running a stop sign and almost hitting another driver she pulled off to the side and struggled to calm herself. 

_This is ridiculous. I'm going to kill someone. I just need to go back to the office and wait to see the director. I can take the shuttle from there to Andrews._

She checked the car into the agency motor pool around noon and decided she would wait in one of the conference rooms and catch-up on email until the director was available. Knowing she would have to walk past the bullpen to reach a conference room she hoped most of the staff would be out to lunch. She desperately wanted to avoid the questioning glances she had endured the day before when she arrived at the director's request. The elevator bell rang, the door opened and she exited onto the floor. Looking toward the agents' work area she groaned. This was definitely not her lucky day.

Walking toward the bullpen she saw Tony DiNozzo look up from his desk and crack a huge grin when he saw her. As she came closer E.J. saw the back of Ziva David's head as she concentrated on her computer monitor.

"Well, well, well. Special Agent Barrett." Tony chimed. "Anything new since yesterday?" E.J. remembered their intense, but cathartic discussion the day before about their past relationship and the director's offer for her to come to Norfolk and lead Team 2.

Before she could respond, Ziva's head snapped around to stare at E.J., surprise in her eyes. She was sure Ziva had heard the rumors she had been offered the Team 2 lead position, everyone else had. But it was obvious from Ziva's expression that she did not know E.J. was in town.

After a few moments E.J. saw the tension leave Ziva's body. "Congratulations Agent Barrett," Ziva said politely. E.J. heard the sincerity in her voice. "I look forward to working with you. You will be a fine team leader."

"That's if she takes the job," Tony quipped. "Decided yet, E.J.?"

Ziva shot a confused glance at Tony, then turned back to E.J.. "You have decided to take the position, yes?"

E.J. felt the look of panic burst across her face before she could muster any effort to control her features. She was mentally exhausted after her morning with Gibbs and had little reserve to control her emotions. She realized Ziva must have seen her panicked expression because the Israeli's eyes opened wide as she turned toward Tony again, this time with a questioning frown. Tony shrugged at Ziva and looked back at E.J.

"Thank you, Ziva," E.J. said, carefully choosing her words. "I'm still ... reviewing my options. I will let the director know later this afternoon. Excuse me. I need to catch-up on some email and paperwork." E.J. walked toward the conference rooms as Tony and Ziva stared after her.

E.J. adjusted her seat at the conference table, booted up her computer, logged into the wireless network and began to plow through the hundreds of emails which had stacked-up in just the few days she had been absent from Rota. A few minutes later her video conference call window popped-up indicating someone online wanting to video chat. She opened the control panel to see who was calling and was startled to see Gibbs' name. She clicked on the  _start call_  button and Gibbs' face appeared on the screen.

"Jethro," she said, cautiously. "This is new. Computers aren't exactly your thing."

"New profession - new skills," he said. "I  _can_  change, E.J.. It just takes a while."

She said nothing, the hot flush of anger crawling up her neck into her cheeks.

After an uncomfortable pause he continued. "It's just, well … there are rules. Ya know? We talked about that."

Her resilience exhausted, she was unable to control her emotions any longer as they boiled to the surface. And now, Gibbs' attempt to hide behind his precious rules was too much, pushing her over the edge, anger bursting out. She was livid!

"Screw your god damned rules, Jethro!" she yelled. "You've always hidden behind them, used them as an excuse to keep people away. I'm not gonna play by your messed-up rules anymore."

Gibbs face flickered on the screen as his voice crackling over the computer's speakers. "Rules have a purpose, E.J.. They keep things in order, keep people alive."

"Bullshit." she spat back. "Bullshit, Jethro. That may have been true before, but not now. You're not a Marine any more. You're not a god damned NCIS agent any more. Your rules were built around that life. You don't live that life anymore. This is not Hawaii!"

"It's not that simple," he replied.

Exacting every ounce of will power remaining she calmed herself and her voice became steely cold. "Actually, Jethro, it  _is_  that simple. It has  _always_  been that simple. It is a simple matter of making a  _decision_ , either 'yes' or 'no'. You already know my decision."

Gibbs started to speak but E.J. clicked the  _end call_  button and closed her computer. With her elbows on the table she dropped her head to into her hands, her eyes brimming with tears.

After a moment she had the feeling she was not alone. Looking up she saw Ziva standing in the doorway looking apologetic, but concerned.

"I am sorry," Ziva said. "I came to ask you why you had not yet accepted the team lead position. Then I overheard you talking. I should have left, or at least alerted you to my presence. It was inexcusable behavior on my part."

E.J. wearily shook her head and wiped her eyes. "No, Ziva. Don't apologize. It's alright. I'm just having a … life challenge."

Ziva hesitated, then walked over to the table and sat. "I did not know," she said, "... about you and Gibbs, I mean."

E.J. was surprised at the Israeli's empathy. "Not too many people do," she replied.

"I understand now why you are not sure about taking the position. It must be very hard." Ziva paused, then asked quietly, "What happened … in Hawaii?"

Not surprised by Ziva's directness, E.J. considered how to answer the question, or even if she should. But any reluctance disappeared as she thought of Ziva's and Tony's situation. Ziva was more like Gibbs, and Tony, more like her. This was a matter of love and there was nothing more important. She had finally learned that lesson, although maybe too late for her and Gibbs. If there was some way she could make Ziva understand and not repeat her own mistake - to help Ziva move past her fear and take the chance of love with Tony - then she would not hold herself back for fear of embarrassment or judgment.

She sighed and squared her shoulders. "Gibbs and I met ten years ago, when he was temporarily assigned to the Pearl Harbor field office after Kate Todd's death."

E.J. noticed Ziva's body stiffen at the mention of Kate's death. She knew it was Ziva's half-brother, Ari, who had gone rogue from Mossad and killed Kate while Ziva was acting as his control officer.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "After Kate was killed Director Morrow made all of Gibbs' team take time off. Gibbs was pretty stubborn about wanting to work, so instead of fighting him the Director posted him to Pearl as temporary lead of my team while our permanent lead was recovering from a broken arm and leg."

Ziva nodded, encouraging E.J. to continue.

"I don't know how to explain this ... so I'll just put it out there. When I first saw him I felt like I had known him for a long time and the attraction was incredible. Not just physically. I mean, I just felt - connected. And what was even more bizarre was that he felt the same way. We had never met, but there was some type of … ," she paused, trying hard to find the right words, "… I don't know, I just can't describe it."

Ziva looked thoughtful and nodded. "Yes, I think I know what you mean," she said.

She suspected Ziva might understand. After she and Tony had reconciled their brief and tumultuous relationship he had shared with her some of his feelings toward Ziva. E.J.'s connection with Gibbs was exactly how Tony had described the connection both he and Ziva had felt toward each other from the time they first met.

"Anyway," E.J. continued, "He was pretty messed up, blaming himself for Kate's death. He was really hurting. And ... he was gentle and sincere and sweet. He let me in, let me help. We spent a lot of time talking. But we also spent a lot of time just sitting, just holding each other's hand. He even told me about Shannon and Kelly."

At that admission Ziva looked shocked. "He told you about Shannon and Kelly?," she stammered.

E.J. sighed, "Yeah. Don't tell him I told you."

"How long was he stationed there?", Ziva asked.

"Eight weeks, two days," E.J. responded.

"One thing that surprised me was he treated me like a professional. He didn't see me as a kid and I didn't see him as a father figure. I was young - I think around 26 - and he was in his mid-forties. But that didn't color his expectations of me as an agent. And age just disappeared when we shared - other things."

E.J. felt the heat of a slight blush filling her cheeks. "We got close, probably closer than was professionally appropriate. But it was right - it felt right."

"Did you …," Ziva paused, but E.J. knew the question on her mind.

"… become intimate?" E.J. finished her sentence.

Ziva nodded.

"Yes." Her eyes left Ziva's, staring at the back wall, not seeing the photo hanging there, her thoughts in another time and place.

"After four weeks of constantly being in each other's presence, working cases during the day and talking about our lives at night, we went further. The next four weeks were … ," she didn't finish her thought as she brought her attention back to Ziva. "I fell in love with him and he fell in love with me."

"What happened?" Ziva asked.

"Rule Twelve."

"Oh," Ziva nodded in understanding.

"After he left Hawaii and returned to DC I tried to contact him, but he ignored my calls and emails. Hell, I even wrote several letters. I finally quit trying. A couple of years later I was offered the lead position in Rota and even then I heard nothing from him."

"And when you and your team were reassigned to DC five years ago, what happened then?," Ziva asked, confusion evident on her face.

"I confronted him about being such a bastard for not returning my emails and phone calls; for acting like what happened between us never occurred. That's when he told me that right after he left Hawaii he found out my uncle was an Undersecretary of the Navy.

"Ah," Ziva said, understanding in her voice. "And eventually your uncle became Secretary of the Navy, Secretary Davenport."

She nodded, continuing her rant, "Five years later, that's when he threw Rule Twelve in my face! That's when I finally found out what happened to him ... to us. Five god damned years later!"

Realizing her emotions had broken free again E.J. stopped herself, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, struggling to regain control of her thoughts and feelings.

Ziva's eyes fell to the table, her voice hesitant, "And ... Tony?"

E.J. cringed, hearing the pain in Ziva's voice. "I didn't realize it then ..., "she paused, "no, that's not true. I didn't  _admit_  to myself then that Tony was my way to strike back at Gibbs, to hurt him as much as he hurt me. Then he told me he knew about my uncle's position and that was why he cut himself off after Hawaii. That really hit me, but finally everything made sense. It hurt. I was angry. Tony didn't deserve what I put him through."

She turned to Ziva, saying nothing until Ziva's eyes rose to meet hers. "Ziva, I am so sorry. Tony and I have resolved this, but I know he and Gibbs weren't the only ones I hurt."

Ziva smiled softly and nodded. "Tony told me about your relationship and your mutual resolution. But your explanation clears-up many things. I do not harbor ill feelings toward you, E.J.. I cannot imagine how difficult all of this has been for you."

E.J. swallowed hard and reached her hand across the table, touching Ziva's. "Ziva, screw the rules. Don't wait until it's too late."

Ziva looked down again, but nodded, understanding what was left unspoken in E.J.'s plea to her. "There is much more to you than I thought. Thank you, E.J.. I hope you find resolution with Gibbs."

E.J. nodded. No words were necessary. Ziva stood up, turned and walked out of the conference room.

Alone again with her thoughts E.J. considered her conversation with Ziva. Her confusion was beginning to fade, bringing feelings and circumstances into focus, providing a clarity she had not had in weeks. She sighed, her shoulders dropped and she shook her head. But she knew now what she had to do. Reaching over to the conference room phone she dialed the director's office and told his secretary she was ready to see him when he was available.

She steadied herself around her decision.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs stared at the blank computer screen, astounded E.J. had cut him off. But it wasn't anger that filled his gut. It was fear. Fear and desperation that he may have just thrown away something priceless, as cavalierly as tossing a wad of paper into his wastebasket. His head was spinning, thoughts and feelings frantic.

He knew E.J. was at the Navy Yard. He recognized the familiar conference room in the background. He needed to see her, to convince her to listen to him. But he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted - or needed - to say.

 _I need to talk to Ducky. He's better at this stuff, a hell of a lot better. And E.J.'s at the office. Maybe by the time I get there I'll be able to figure this out._  His was not convinced by his thoughts.

He grabbed his keys and coat, closed the front door behind him and headed toward his car.

Forty minutes later he parked in the visitor's lot. The gate security officer smiled when he recognized Gibbs, issuing him a visitor's pass without question and directing him through toward the parking area. Gibbs entered the ground floor parking garage elevator and smacked the button to send it one floor up to the Autopsy Lab.

Dr. Donald Mallard, the prim and proper NCIS Chief Medical Examiner, turned toward the familiar sound of the swoosh of air as his lab doors opened, announcing a visitor's arrival. His jaw dropped when he spied Gibbs standing just inside the door staring back at him.

Gibbs' smirk made it clear to the doctor his astonishment showed on his face.

"Hi Duck." Gibbs said.

The doctor opened his mouth, but remained speechless.

"Corpse got your tongue, Duck?" Gibbs chuckled at his pun, his smirk widening.

"Jethro!" Ducky almost shouted. "I am …," he sputtered some more. "It's so good to see you!"

"You too Duck." The two friends stepped toward each other and exchanged hugs and slaps on the back.

"Got a minute?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, so much for the pleasantries," Ducky said. Right down to business I see."

"Sorry Duck. I'm kinda short on time."

"Of course! For you Jethro, I have many minutes." His smile beamed. "How can I be of service?"

Ducky knew the private side of Gibbs well, perhaps better than most. Sharing gender, age and experience had bonded them more than once in deep discussions about life. Ducky could see the concern echoed on his friend's face, but there was something more going on inside. The turmoil behind Gibbs' eyes was evident. He looked unsure … even lost in some way.

Directing Gibbs toward the chair next to his desk Ducky also sat and pulled the rarely used, but ever present, bottle of scotch from his bottom desk drawer. Reaching up to the shelf above his desk he pulled down two, clear, glass lab beakers and splashed the liquor into each, handing one to Gibbs. Gibbs nodded, they clinked beakers and each took a sip, acknowledging the serious intent of their discussion.

"Duck, I'm trying to navigate a situation, but my map's out-of-date" Gibbs said, looking down at Ducky's desk.

Knowing Gibbs was a man of few - and often cryptic - words, the doctor listened intently, focusing on deciphering their meaning. "I see," he said, nodding his head.

Gibbs' brow wrinkled into a frown, "I'm and old dog, Duck!"

"Ah," Ducky said, grasping the first hint of Gibbs' concern. "One who is, perhaps, afraid he cannot learn new tricks?"

"Yeah," Gibbs chuckled softly, "something like that." His frown returned as he continued, "E.J. came to see me this morning."

As Gibbs said E.J.'s name the nature of his problem crystallized in the doctor's mind. He sighed and nodded his head. "Ah, yes, Agent Barrett. I believe I understand your dilemma, Jethro."

Ducky, like everyone else in the Navy Yard, had heard the rumors E.J. Barrett had been offered the lead investigator position for MCRT 2. It became clear to him exactly why his friend was a torrent of emotion.

Ducky thought back to the waning days of summer almost 10 years ago when Gibbs returned from his temporary assignment in Hawaii. To his surprise and joy his friend had somehow worked through much of his initial grief about Kate Todd's death. But there was another sorrow smoldering under Gibbs' stoic exterior, a sorrow Ducky could sense, but did not understand. Eventually, Gibbs had come to him, trusting him above all others, needing to talk about his new grief, and laid bare his brief and intense affair with E.J. Barrett. Ducky also remembered Gibbs had broken off the relationship, unwilling to consider either one of them abandoning their careers to be together. He remembered the terrible hurt his friend experienced after making that decision.

"And I suppose," Ducky continued, "she needs closure, one way or the other, before she can decide whether or not take this job."

"Yeah," Gibbs sighed, "you nailed it."

Silence filled the space between them. The doctor spoke again, "You know, Jethro, as Chief Medical Examiner I have worked with Erica many times over the past decade. She is an amazing individual, much like you, in fact."

Gibbs didn't respond, taking another sip of scotch.

"It is hard for her to give her trust to others," Ducky continued thoughtfully. "But for those fortunate enough to win her favor she is committed, loyal and dedicated, to the point she will sacrifice her own life to protect them. Erica would willingly make that sacrifice for someone important to her, whether it was their life, or their heart, committed to her care."

"Sure Duck," Gibbs sighed. "E.J.'s special. Always has been, always will be."

Ducky huffed his exasperation at his friend's evasion. He decided to change his approach so Gibbs could not do what he was so skilled at - avoiding his own feelings.

"Jethro, you are a man fortunate among men. Most men never experience the joy of knowing the unfathomable love of even one true and committed partner. But life has blessed you with that exact love ... twice. First with Shannon. And now, with E.J.. More than most men, you deserve it. Your life has been one of selfless service and sacrifice. Now life is offering you a gift beyond measure, with no strings attached. All you have to do is reach out and accept it."

Gibbs continued to look down at Ducky's desk in silence.

Ducky's frustration was palpable now. He straightened his back, drew himself up in his chair and said with the most commanding voice he could muster, "Jethro, get … another … map!"

Gibbs' head snapped up. "What do you mean, Duck?"

"Rule Twelve," the doctor said.

"What about Rule Twelve?"

"You are, indeed, an old dog, Jethro," Ducky's voice had softened, "and it is hard to learn new tricks. I, more than most, can attest to that. But it's not impossible. Maybe Rule Twelve isn't relevant any longer. Maybe all of your bloody rules aren't relevant any longer."

Gibbs' frown grew deeper.

Seeing the confusion in his friends face Ducky sighed, set his scotch down and caught Gibbs' eyes. "Perhaps, Jethro," he said, "you need a new set of rules!"

Ducky heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the corners of Gibbs' mouth begin to turn up into the faintest hint of a smile, letting the doctor know his message had been received and understood.

Gibbs drained his scotch and set the beaker down. Rising, he said, "Thanks, Duck!" and started walking toward the lab door.

"Jethro," Ducky said.

Gibbs stopped and looked at his friend.

"There is one rule you have which I like. Something about  _being wrong_."

Gibbs smiled, "Yeah. That's rule 51.  _Sometimes you're wrong_."

"Keep that one."

Gibbs smiled and nodded, his eyes showing his appreciation. He turned and exited the lab, moving quickly, like a man on a mission.

Ziva whispered a frustrated curse in Hebrew as she completed another dead-end internet search concerning one of the suspects implicated in the team's current case. Hearing the elevator bell ring and the doors open did not persuade her to turn and see who had entered the floor.

Glancing across at Tony her gaze froze as she observed her partner's shocked face. Tony's jaw had dropped, his mouth was open and his bulging eyes were laser focused toward the elevator. Ziva whipped around to see what had made her partner speechless and found Gibbs walking quickly toward the bullpen.

Her stomach fluttered. She felt the corners of her mouth stretch upwards into a huge grin. There could be only one reason he was here and it warmed her heart more than she thought possible.

Gibbs glanced at her as he walked up to the bullpen, a quizzical look on his face. She knew she must look about as un-Ziva-like as he had ever seen her, but she could not stop the grin that continued to grow.

As Gibbs got closer Tony's shocked face sprouted a broad smile and both he and McGee jumped up to greet him.

"Boss," Tony blurted out. "Well, not really  _boss_  … more like  _ex-boss_. Or maybe  _not boss at all_  … or …"

McGee stepped over to Gibbs and extended his hand while Tony kept babbling. "Good to see you, boss," he nodded at Gibbs. "You look great!"

Ziva chuckled as her two partners continued to talk over each other, expressing their surprise and delight at their mentor's unexpected visit. She stepped close to Gibbs, almost brushing against his coat, basking in the strength of his presence which she had missed so greatly over the past year. She stood quietly, continuing to smile at him, feeling peaceful ... and hopeful.

After a moment Ziva realized Gibbs was trying to ask a question, but the jabbering agents weren't getting the hint. When one took a breath the other kept talking and vice-versa. They tag-teamed Gibbs for at least a minute before he finally reached over and gave Tony a head-slap which silenced both men.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said as Tony cowered back just a bit.

"Yeah Boss!" Tony's crisp, almost military response was automatic, conditioned from years of working with the older man.

"Where's Barrett?" Gibbs barked.

"Last time I saw her she was heading up-stairs to talk with Director Craig, Boss!" Tony snapped back.

Ziva could not remember ever seeing Gibbs move so quickly up the stairs leading past MTAC to the director's office. Any doubts she had about his visit dissolved. She knew why he was here. Her heart sang for her mentor and friend as a happy tear ran down her cheek.

Tony and McGee stared after Gibbs, stunned. Tony turned toward her and his brow furrowed in confusion as he caught the smile - and the tear - on her face.

"Ziva?" Tony sputtered.

She laughed at his expression, flashing him a glowing smile.

"We will talk later, Tony."

Gibbs bound up the stairs two at a time to the second floor. He walked quickly into the director's outer office and nodded at his administrative assistant.

Recognizing him, she began to protest his unannounced intrusion. He just smiled and moved past her, opened the door and walked into Jerome Craig's office.

Craig's head jerked up, a startled look on his face.

"Gibbs ...?" Craig's unasked question of why Gibbs had just barged into his office hung in the air.

Saying nothing, Gibbs looked around the office, puzzled at not finding E.J..

Craig continued nervously. "Jethro, ah … good to see you. And you're here because …?" his voice trailed off.

"Barrett!" Gibbs snapped his attention back to the Craig. "She was supposed to be meeting with you about the MCRT 2 lead position."

"Jethro, you know I can't talk to you about personnel assignments, that's classified. Last time I looked, you were a civilian."

"Where is she?" Gibbs spat back.

"Special Agent Barrett is on her way back to Rota."

"But she was supposed to talk to you at 1400 hours, which is right now!"

"We were able to meet earlier."

Gibbs' face grew hot, his pulse pounding in his neck. A rising panic gripped his chest and for a moment his legs shuddered, threatening to buckle. He took a quick, deep breath and brought his sniper training to bear, calming his body and concentrating his focus.

He knew E.J. would take the shuttle to Andrews Air Force Base and, if it ran on the same schedule as he remembered, the most recent departure was 15 minutes ago. Looking at his watch his stomach sank as he realized his chance of arriving at Andrews before her transport flight left at 1500, even if he drove like a maniac, was dwindling with every second he delayed.

He whipped around, ran out the door, yelling back at Craig, "Thanks, Jerome."

"Gibbs, wait!" he heard Craig shout after him as he left the outer office at a dead run. He didn't turn back to find out what the director wanted, but instead, quickened his pace.


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs had truly driven like a maniac across town frantically trying to reach the air base to catch E.J. before she walked out of his life.

She was right. He had hidden behind his rules, using them as a rouse to keep from getting hurt, never believing he would find someone he could love, or who could love him, like the love he and Shannon had for each other. But those rules, no matter how essential for his identity as a Marine or NCIS Agent, didn't hold water any longer.

Ducky was right as well. He needed a new set of rules, rules to guide the rest of his life, to guide him as a man with love to share. He needed to learn to risk. Not risk his life, that was easy, he could do that in a heart-beat. No, he needed to learn to risk his feelings, to trust that someone cared enough to have his back when he bared his soul and dropped his defenses.

He was different now. And life was shorter now. Yes, he needed a new set of rules. And he wanted to write those new rules with Erica Jane Barrett.

Gibbs parked his car and ran to the fenced civilian waiting area on the tarmac outside the main terminal. He clenched his jaw as he checked the time on his watch. It was 1455 hours. He knew the C-130's cargo hold was already buttoned-up and fueling had finished. He could see passengers exiting onto the tarmac from the terminal 50 yards to his left walking the path bordered by bright yellow lines toward the cargo ramp at the rear of the plane. He knew no more than 15 passengers would be on the transport and his gaze was intense as he searched the group for her.

His breath hitched for an instant when his eyes landed on her walking toward the plane. Still dressed in her gray suit, the wind from the prop-wash blew her short, blond hair into her face. He screamed at her, yelling her name frantically through the chain-linked fence until his throat was raw. It was useless. She couldn't hear him over the deafening drone of the plane's propellers.

Gibbs glanced over to the edge of the waiting area, noticing the guard posted at the corner of the fence by the locked gate which led onto the tarmac. He ran over and caught the guard's attention.

"I need to talk to the woman in the gray suit getting on that plane," he shouted at the guard over the noise of the engines. "Her," he pointed at E.J., "the one with the blond hair."

"Sorry sir, no can do," the sentry shouted back, his voice flat and emotionless.

Gibbs sputtered, "but she's an NCIS agent and I'm a … I used to be with NCIS. I need to talk to her, now! It's a matter of life or death!"

"Sorry sir," the sentry repeated.

"But you don't understand. You've got to let me out there," Gibbs pleaded.

"Sir," the sentry's training snapped into place, "step away from the gate, now!"

Gibbs felt his stomach drop. He knew before he had started it would be useless to persist. The sentry was a Marine and even the most poorly trained Marine would never let him through the gate onto the tarmac.

As the seconds ticked away he watched E.J. pace off the remaining steps to the transport. He agonized as each step brought her closer to the plane's cargo ramp, gaping open like a cold, cavernous maw ready to swallow her whole.

Gibbs' body fell slack, his tension and energy draining out in defeat. His mouth was dry, his eyes burned, ears ached. He cursed himself as he witnessed the consequence of years of fear and insecurity, of living by rules that no longer mattered - the woman he loved was walking out of his life, forever.

"Open the gate!" the shouted command came from behind him, rising above the thrum of the plane's engines. Gibbs' head shot up and he willed his tired body to turn and look at the intruder. Standing just behind him was Jerome Craig, badge and ID in hand, held up for the sentry's inspection.

"Sir?" the sentry shouted back, his voice confused.

"Marine!"

"Yes sir?"

"Do you see this ID, Marine?" Craig's voice was impatient, irritated.

"Yes  _sir_!" the sentry snapped to attention.

"Good. Now open the gate!" Craig ordered.

"But sir, this man is a civilian, he's not allowed on the Tarmac," the sentry said, aware of his duty.

"Marine!" Craig shouted even louder this time. "This man is on special assignment for NCIS under my direct authority and supervision. His mission is to escort NCIS Special Agent E.J. Barrett. Agent Barrett is about to board that plane,  _without_  her escort. Do you have any more questions, Marine?" Craig sounded more serious than Gibbs could remember. But his sly smile and side long glance told Gibbs he was enjoying the intimidation of this young soldier immensely.

"No  _sir_!" the sentry shouted and opened the gate.

Gibbs turned toward Craig, nodded and shouted over the engine roar, "Thanks Jerome, for having my back." Craig nodded and flicked his head toward the plane, directing Gibbs to move. But Gibbs had already turned, bolting out of the gate and running full-tilt toward E.J. who had reached the cargo ramp.

Stepping onto the cargo ramp E.J. caught a flicker of movement and turned her attention to the man running toward her. For a moment she didn't recognize him, but as he drew closer she gasped.

In the few seconds it took Gibbs to cover the remaining distance E.J. stepped down from the ramp onto the tarmac. As he drew closer the crescendo of her pulse pounded in her ears. The tightness in her stomach radiated out to her arms and legs, making her light-headed for a moment. But her head cleared as Gibbs slowed his approach and finally stopped before her, an arm's length apart. She froze, unable to speak, unable to move, her eyes melting into his.

Time stopped. Her heart stilled. Sound dulled and disappeared. Movement ceased while light dimmed. Everything around her faded. Her vision tunneled to a pinpoint where nothing else existed except his eyes. She gazed into them, piercing through them, exposing his soul. They reached out and embraced her, letting her in, surrounding her with the love and desire she craved. Every thought of him, every turning point, every decision that lead to this moment became crystal clear. Suddenly the possibility of happiness - of which life had granted her only a cruel glimpse - seemed within her grasp. He was here.  The man she loved. He had come for her.

E.J.'s awareness battled back to real time and space. Of its own accord her body gave one violent shudder, sucking in a deep breath. Light seeped into her consciousness and the onslaught of the plane's engines slowly grew in her ears until they rang with pain once more. As her vision expanded she took in his entire face.

"Don't go," he shouted above the plane's roar, his eyes pleading, "I need you."

At his words her hopes suddenly dimmed and sadness gripped her heart. Her voice choked with the tears she was desperately trying to hold back, "That's not enough, Jethro. Not for me. Not for you."

He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, his face close to hers, his warm breath brushing her lips.

"I'm sorry, E.J.", his voice was hoarse and shaking.

Stunned at his words, she hesitated. This was Gibbs ... and he had just told her he was sorry. Apologized! Breaking the most sacred of his treasured rules.

"I need your help," he said, "to write a new set of rules."

She gazed at him in disbelief.

"But I can't do it by myself, E.J.. I could never do it by myself."

She saw the wetness brimming in his eyes, felt the tenseness in his body.

And in that moment she understood what he was saying - what he was doing - and she was breathless at his courage. He was tearing down his rules - his walls. No, not just tearing them down, he was obliterating them, pulverizing them to dust. And he was doing it for her … for _them_. The hope and love inside her flared again.

"I've already started," he said, pausing, waiting for her response.

"How's that going?" her voice was tentative and shaking.

"I've finished the first one - Rule Number 1." He gently moved his palm to her cheek, his thumb caressing her chin.

"What's Rule Number 1, Jethro?," she asked, barely audible above the plane's engines.

" _Hold on to the people that love you and never let them go._ "

At those words her tears finally found their release, washing away years of longing and heartache. They were tears of joy.

"I love you Erica. I always have. I need you, way more than you need me." A lone tear escaped his eye.

She closed the remaining inches between them, falling into his arms, burying her head in his chest, releasing the sobs held inside. Her emotions were no longer jumbled or confused.  Her journey, no longer in question. She breathed in his scent, felt his strong arms around her and for the first time in her life she felt content.

As the minutes passed, wrapped in the protection of his embrace, her sobs subsided, her breath slowed and her mind calmed. Eventually she pulled back, looking up into his face. He smiled down at her, his love for her mirrored in his eyes.

She smiled back, finding it hard to look away. Finally she turned her attention to their surroundings. "I think they're waiting for us to get on-board, get out of the way, or get a room!" she laughed.

Startled, Gibbs pulled his attention from the woman in his arms and surveyed the ground crew hovering in the background waiting patiently and looking slightly embarrassed. He chuckled. Turning away from the plane he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they began walking slowly back toward the terminal.

"You know," she sighed, her arms around his waist as he leaned down and kissed the top of her head, "This is kind of surreal. If Tony were here he'd say this was just like some cheesy ending in one of his movies."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and snorted. "Screw DiNozzo," he chuckled.

E.J. looked up at him, her smile demure. She stretched up and placed a lingering kiss on his lips, then moved her mouth to his ear. "Actually," she whispered, "I have someone else in mind for that!"

 

*** END ***


End file.
